


cruel summer

by Kylaroid



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Multi, Resident Evil AU, Zombie Apocalypse, mostly domlene centric, strap in for a slow burn boys, with some side elliot leon and carla
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23164522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylaroid/pseuds/Kylaroid
Summary: Darlene Alderson is returning to New York to reunite with her brother Elliot, but she arrives to a zombie-infested city. She crosses paths with FBI Agent Dominique DiPierro and the two venture to find answers to their questions. Where is Elliot Alderson and where did this outbreak come from?
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro, Elliot Alderson/Leon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	1. heavy rain

Just a few hours ago, Darlene had been pleasantly humming along to Dan Hartman’s _I Can Dream About You_ as it blared from her car’s shitty speakers. Granting a faint warble and grainy quality to the 80s pop ballad. Windows rolled down and her messy brown locks fluttering wildly in the summer breeze. The soles of her boots pushed the gas pedal down as she hurdled down the backroads of New York. I-84 was always so congested and she was itching to see Elliot again. It had been so long—too long—since she’d seen him. The guilt and nerves were a bit too much so she placed a cigarette between her lips and flicked the lighter against the butt until it lit. Inhaled deep—let that chemical relaxant pour into her lungs and settle her soul. And with an exhale, smoke spilled from her lips and drifted out the window into that humid wind.

And now she was here, in the city. Soaked down to her very bones by a heavy rain that drenches her clothes. Her fingers clutching the handle of a wooden bat with a death grip. Thank _fuck_ she kept this in the back of her trunk. One would never know that it originally had a warm amber-toned finish. It was covered in a mess of bloody viscera and sickly green sludge. Bits of flesh and god knows what else stuck to the wood and wouldn’t wash off. But the rain helped to disguise the almost ubiquitous thick scent of blood and rotting, decomposing flesh. Just barely. Darlene ducks into a narrow alley to catch her breath—cognizant not to be too loud. Distantly, oh—ever so distant, yet still loud enough for her to make out, are ungodly noises. Screaming and growling and strangled groans. Something out of a nightmare or some fucked up horror movie. But this isn’t a dream she can wake up from,

Her breath hitches in her throat and for a second she thinks she might scream. There’s that panic. That fear. Intangible and unavoidable. Like a centipede squirming in her gut and crawling up her throat. Scratching and clawing at the confines of her flesh. Darlene trembles—clamps her mouth shut with her hand and slumps against the brick wall. A choked sob hits her palm and then she swallows the fear. Screws her eyes shut and forces it to retreat back down her throat. Elliot. She needs to find Elliot. It’s the end of the fucking world and the only thing she wants is to be by his side when everything comes crumbling down.

But before she can find Elliot, she has to protect herself—and this bat isn’t going to cut it for much longer. Darlene trails down the alleyway, her heavy boots kicking up the water that pools on the concrete. Croons her head out and sneaks a glance to either side. No monsters or other people in sight. She slinks out—large dark eyes fluttering around the landscape uneasily as she walks. The road is lined with shops. Some of them had clearly been unoccupied for a long time and were seemingly desolate. She notes the E Corp foreclosure sign on one old Ma and Pop-looking store with some disdain. There’s glass littering the street and it cracks, shatters—rough on the sole of her worn boots. Most of these stores have been looted. A frown stretches across her lips. She would kill for a good sandwich or slice of pizza right about now. The baseball bat drags along the ground—the sound of the wood scrapping against the asphalt barely registering above the rain. Wedged between a bodega and an E Corp bank is a small hunting supplies store. It’s one of the few buildings where all the windows haven’t already been shattered to hell.

Darlene presses her hands to the glass and peers inside. It’s dark. She can’t make out most of the interior, but the shelves she can see look fairly bare. However, she can make out one hunting rifle mounted on the far back wall. Her chest eases with relief. The brunette leans back and taps against the glass with her knuckles. ‘ _Must be bulletproof glass_.’ It would explain why the windows were still intact. Wet footsteps make their way over to the door. The handle jiggles, but won’t budge. Locked—naturally. But that isn’t much of an obstacle for her. ‘ _Good thing I keep this shit on me…_ ’ She mumbles—digging into her soaked jacket pocket for her lockpicking tools. Darlene bends down so she’s level with the lock and starts guiding the tools inside. Feeling around for the slightest click—shifting everything right into place to unlock it. Waiting for that moment of satisfaction when you can feel the lock give and twist open. Before she gets the chance to crack it open, something interrupts her. Or rather, someone.

“Hands where I can see them!” A woman’s voice howls over the rain. Darlene freezes. The fuck? She turns her head, just the littlest bit, so she can make out whoever is yelling at her. In the midst of a zombie outbreak. Her hands remain right where they are—stiff as rocks so she doesn’t lose her progress on breaking the lock. Standing in front of her is an equally soaked red-headed woman in what seems to be semi-formal wear. Blouse, blazer, the whole nine yards. But Darlene is more focused on the pistol steady in the palm of her hands. Fixed on her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Darlene swallows hard and her eyebrows furrow together incredulously. “Dude—is that even a fucking question? There are god damn _zombies_ down the block. I need a gun. Now unless you’ve got a spare you’re gonna give me, be quiet so that I can concentrate—okay?” She huffs, hesitantly turning her attention back to the door. In her peripheral vision, Darlene can see the woman lower the muzzle of the gun. Just slightly. “You know breaking and entering and stealing are both crimes, right?” The woman retorts—her tone steady and serious and a bit condescending. Especially considering the circumstances.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me—what are you—a cop?” Darlene scoffs—not moving her head or her gaze. Entirely focused on her task. Hands moving delicately with intention.

“FBI. Cybercrime division.” Darlene groans internally. Great, just fucking great. The last thing she needs right now is some pig on her case while zombies try to eat her brains or whatever the fuck it is that they do. “ _Almost…_ ” Darlene hums as the tension wrench sets the final pin into place and the lock gives – twisting opening. “Gotcha!” She exclaims, her face lightening with relief. But she doesn’t have much of a chance to revel in the sensation.

“Stay still!” The ginger snaps, followed by two shots of her handgun. The sound of the pistol firing startles her and she falls back against the door. The ground is rough and the slickness of the concrete scratches her palms and makes them sting as she tries to steady herself. Darlene whips her head around in time to see a pale white figure crumbling down to the ground right behind her. It twitches—convulsing violently for a few moments—before slumping onto the asphalt. Thick dark blood is oozing out of the bullet holes in its forehead. The agent walks over and inspects the corpse before returning to Darlene – hovering over her.

“I’m guessing we got a couple minutes before that thing starts moving again.” She extends a hand out to the brunette who regards it with some suspicion. Her dark eyes interrogating the stranger’s face. Those ashen eyes have softened, eased, just a little, just enough for Darlene to reach up and take ahold of her hand. It’s slippery, slick from the water, but she can feel the warmth radiating off of her skin. Her fingers are sturdy. Secure. Suddenly, she finds herself being pulled back onto her feet. Damn, this woman must be pretty built. Not that Darlene can tell with all those layers on. “You hear about the mandatory evacuation order? Government is probably going to send out troops to wipe out these things out in the next couple days. You should get yourself to one of the E Corp shelters.”

Darlene dusts herself off and reaches out – grabbing ahold of the baseball bat that had been resting on the ground with her slick palm. “Coooooool. Bet they charge a pretty premium to get inside.” She drawls—swinging open the door to the store and taking a step inside. “I just got into town and I drained my phone battery on the way here. So it’s all news to me.” She huffs – starting to examine the shelves. “I’m serious. If they see you on the streets they’re not going to take a second look to see whether you’re human or not before they shoot.” The agent snaps back – following her inside. Darlene reaches out and picks up a small box. Shakes it in her hands and hears something rattling around. Can feel it. She peels off the tape and examines the contents. Soft point .243 bullets. About five rounds. Darlene closes the flimsy paper box back up and slips it into her purple backpack.

“Look—Agent…” She hums, waiting for the other woman to finish the sentence. The ginger examines her skeptically, contemplatively—licking her lips and looking either direction before replying. “DiPierro. Dom DiPierro.” Darlene turns on her heel and continues looting the shelves. “Well, Agent DiPierro. I drove all the way up here from Jersey to see my brother. And I’m sure as hell not going to a shelter until I find him. And he’s definitely fucking not at some E Corp bullshit detention center.” She swipes a flashlight and flips the switch. No batteries—of fucking course. ‘Wonder if they got any spares around here…’ She wonders to herself—putting the battery-less flashlight into her bag anyways. “So either arrest me, or leave me the fuck alone so I can find my brother.”

Darlene trots to the back of the store, behind the counter, where a bolt-action rifle is mounted to the wall. With a little prying, it comes off and into her hands. She inspects it carefully—running her hand over the smooth finish. It looks like wood, but it isn’t. Her family was never big into camping or hunting or outdoor activities in general. But she has a general idea of how to handle a gun. She pulls the lever back and digs around in her backpack for the bullets. Takes one and slips it into the side of the magazine under the scope and cocks it. “I’m not going to arrest you—but I really think it would be in your best interest to go to one of the centers. I can take you to one if you’d like, Miss…” Darlene looks up from the rifle in her hands with a sigh.

“Don’t call me miss. It’s Darlene.” She pauses for a moment, slinging the rifle over her shoulder. “Darlene Alderson. Well, if you’re so gun-ho about these E Corp centers why aren’t you in one?” She quirks her eyebrows. The statement makes Dom pause quizzically. “Alderson? Is your brother Elliot Alderson?” Darlene’s face grows cold—serious and startled and she takes a half step backward. She swallows the lump that forms in her throat, but can’t hide the fear in her eyes. “How do you know my brother?”

Dom blinks, running a hand through her wet fiery hair. Chest heaves with a deep breath before her eyes meet Darlene’s again. “He’s been part of our internal investigations. Nothing serious, but I can’t really get into too many specifics. Classified.” She holsters her gun and folds her arms. “We’ve been investigating an organization that might be connected to this… outbreak. I’m out here looking for answers.” She pauses and exhales again. “And maybe a solution to this whole mess.” Darlene folds her arms—her body tense and guarded. “What does my brother have to do with all of this shit? Do you know where he is?”

“He’s not in trouble, if that’s what you’re worried about. At least, not with us. But we were looking into his employer, Allsafe.” Darlene stiffens at the mention of _not with us_ , and then reaches out with determination and grabs ahold of the agent’s wrist. “Dom, listen, if you know where my brother is, you have to tell me.” Dom pulls away from her grasp.

“I don’t have to tell you anything—” She says defensively, but then pauses. Relents and sighs—fussing with her wet locks again. “Okay, you want to find your brother and I want to get some answers. I think we can help each other out Darlene.” Her fingers run along the edge of a shelf until they grasp a box of handgun cartridges which she starts to load onto her belt. “You help me get to the bottom of this mess, and I’ll make sure you get to your brother. Alright?” Darlene’s fingers tighten her grip on the strap of the rifle—posture still rigid as she regards Dom with skepticism. Her eyes dart around and the FBI agent can tell she’s thinking. Running scenarios. Analyzing the choices available to her. “I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck following around some pig in the middle of a god damn zombie apocalypse.” Dom chuckles—her lips cracking into a smile at the statement. “Trust me, by the end of the day, you and I are going to be best friends.”


	2. destinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which dom and darlene talk strategy and destinations

The rain still pours outside as the two women speak. Thick droplets hammer against the thick panes of glass and rattle the roof. Inside, in the cover and safety of the hunting supplies shop, the sound is muffled. It might almost be relaxing if it wasn’t the end of the world.

“Let’s split up and see what we can find in here. Cover more ground that way.” Dom suggests, already rummaging the aisle. “We got a few minutes before we run into trouble again.” The two went down different rows of shelves – exploring the rest of the hunting store. Darlene passed by a row of fishing rods and assorted tackle boxes. The owner must’ve taken most of the good shit and left just the bare bones behind. But whatever was here was better than nothing. After a few minutes, they meet back up by the rear wall of the store. Darlene drops her purple backpack on the ground and unzips it and Dom follows lead with her handbag. Revealing the spoils of their exploration.

Darlene had found a small folding knife, a bag of mixed nuts that was nearing its expiration date, a coil spring trap, and a shitty, small first aid box. Meanwhile, Dom had grabbed a roll of bright orange duck tape, a pack of four AA batteries, and two boxes of extra rounds. “Better than nothing.” Dom sighs, watching as Darlene rips the package of batteries open and puts them into the flashlight. It took three batteries, so they only had one spare. She flicks the switch up with her thumb to test the torch—satisfied by the beam of light that it produces. Another flick and the light vanishes – the flashlight placed into her backpack. Dom’s eyes roam Darlene’s figure and settle on the rifle on her back.

“You know how to handle that thing?” Darlene blinks and then glances over her shoulder at the butt of the gun. “Can’t be that hard.” She mumbles—sliding if off her back and taking aim at one of the paper target practice sheets. Her fingers, nails coated with a blue polish that’s already started chipping off, roam the surface of the rifle until she finds the safety and flips it off. “Point and shoot. Seems pretty straight-forward to me.”

Dom inspects her, eyes squinting as she mentally scrutinizes the brunette’s form. She hums and then releases a breathy exhale. Takes a step forward which prompts Darlene to flinch backward reflexively. “Here—you need to hold it like this.” And then the woman’s hands roam along Darlene’s arms—guiding them into position. Dom’s fingers glide across Darlene’s hand and pull it back so that the butt of the rifle is resting against her shoulder. “The butt should be against your shoulder so it can absorb the recoil.” Darlene feels her fingers—warm but still damp—on both of her elbows. Dom is wrapped around her, so close that she can feel the woman’s body heat radiating off of her. She pulls her elbows in—close together and situated under the rifle. “This’ll help you support the weight better.” She’s close, so close, a bit too close—her breath hitting up against Darlene’s skin as she provides instructions. Dom’s hands linger, steady on Darlene’s flesh, for a beat too long before she pulls back. The agent takes two steps backward and instinctively reaches up to fuss with her hair. “Like that. Much better.”

Darlene takes a moment to examine the pose—to burn it into her memory. The agent’s marksmanship was pretty fucking good on that zombie earlier, so it couldn’t help to take a few pointers. “Right—uh—cool.” The hacker mumbles a thanks as she slings the rifle across her back again. “So, you got some kind of plan or something? Where are we going?”

“When the outbreak broke out, the first report cases were centered around the New York E Corp Main Headquarters building. In terms of figuring out what the hell is going on, that would ideally be the place to start. But—” Darlene takes the opportunity and jumps in. “That building is fucking huge and probably crawling with zombie worker drones.” Dom’s eyebrows lift and she gives a reluctant shrug of her shoulders. “Yeah, that’s the gist of it. It’d be a suicide mission going in through the front door.” The brunette shifts her weight onto her other leg—hand clutching the strap of her backpack. “Okay, well, we know where we’re _not_ going. So what then, DiPierro?”

“AllSafe’s offices. They’ve been providing security detailing for E Corp. Most of it is server maintenance and protection, but they probably have information on floor plans too. If there’s another way to get inside that building, it’s probably somewhere in there.” Darlene’s face scrunches, her eyebrows furrowing slightly at the repeated mention of AllSafe.

“You said earlier that the FBI was investigating AllSafe in connection to another organization. Are you telling me the feds think E Corp is behind this?” The hacker makes a noise—something between a laugh and a scoff—and mumbles under her breath. “Makes fucking sense. I knew they were evil, but zombie apocalypse is some next level shit.” Dom swallows thickly and runs her lower lip between her teeth.

“I said it was _confidential_. You can feel free to do whatever conjecturing you want.” They had only met ten minutes ago, but Dom could already tell this girl was smart. Quick on her toes and fast to pick things up. Darlene rolls her eyes at Dom’s obvious deflection. “So you need to get to AllSafe. You said my brother works there—” A cybersecurity firm working to protect large corporations. Sure, Elliot is certainly a gifted programmer and hacker, but he also detests E Corp—probably more than she does. The incongruency scratched at her curiosity. “So it sounds like you need Elliot’s help, not mine, since he has access to the place.” She shoots back—folding her arms and leaning backward. Dom regards Darlene curiously—particularly her choice of wording. You said my brother works there. Does that mean she didn’t know where her brother worked? It made Dom intrigued about the status of their relationship, but there would be time for those questions later.

“Yeah, Elliot’s access to AllSafe and ability to get on the servers would make things easy. That’s why I was heading to find him when I ran into you. He’s doing some time at a nearby prison for some minor criminal hacking charges.” Dom shakes her head—face looking a bit too grim for Darlene’s comfort. “But there have been mass power outages throughout the city and with the rate of infection…” A heavy sigh hangs in the air—adding to the thick tension in the shop. “It’s likely most of the prisoners either escaped or turned.” Her grey eyes roll back up from their resting spot on the ground and catch Darlene’s face. The girl looks horrified. Dom understands. She hasn’t been able to contact her family yet. The agent called constantly for several hours—ears eventually ringing from the looping busy tone—until her phone battery gave out and died. The uncertainty of a loved one’s safety is all-consuming.

“Then we need to get a fucking move on.” Darlene exclaims—tone sharp and filled with exasperation. She’s already making headway to the entrance. Dom snatches her handbag from the floor and unholsters her handgun before running after the brunette. “Darlene, just wait—” She rounds an aisle and catches Darlene as she staggers backward away from the door. “ _Fuck!_ ” That zombie from earlier had gotten back onto its feet and was now perched in the door frame. Too close for comfort. Darlene’s back was pressed up against a magazine rack—the realization that she had nowhere left to go sinking in and filling her body with dread and adrenaline.

One hand is still clutching that zombie-splattered baseball bat and she swings it up with all the force she can muster. The wood slams into its skull—leaving a notable indent—and prompts it to stagger backward. In its fall, it reaches out and grabs ahold of Darlene’s tricep. Grimy thick black nails burrow into her flesh and provoke a strangled cry. It releases its grip with another bullet to the skull—courtesy of Agent DiPierro—and slumps down against the doorframe. “Holy shit—oh my god—am I, am I—” The brunette is clutching her slightly bloodied arm and doing her best to hold back choked sobs. Her chest is rising with quick panicked breaths—she’s starting to hyperventilate. Dom hurries over and takes Darlene’s arm into her hands.

“You’re going to be fine. Just take deep breaths, okay?” She pulls a flask out of her purse and pours half of the contents over the wounded flesh. The alcohol burns as it washes over the puncture marks and causes Darlene to jerk. “ _Shit_! What the fuck is that, acid?” Dom rolls her eyes as she caps and returns her flask to her handbag—now thankful for her relic of unprofessionalism. “It’s just some alcohol. You’re going to be fine. It only passes on if one of those things bites you.” Dom murmurs as she slides her soaked blazer off of her shoulders. In her mind's eye, she can vividly recall the events of earlier that morning. When one of her co-workers had been bitten as they ventured down the streets of New York. How they collapsed onto the floor and convulsed violently—leaving Dom to watch in horror as the disease desiccated what humanity remained in them. The faint scent of gunpowder lingering, steady in the air, is too reminiscent and makes Dom want to choke.

She shoves her nausea down, deep down, and places the fabric in her hands—pulling hard. The ginger was now feeling rather grateful that she picked a somewhat lightweight layer to wear today. With relative ease, she’s able to tear off a long strip of black wet fabric and wraps it around Darlene’s injury. Darlene watches—the adrenaline still circulating in her system—as Dom dresses her wounds. “Guess those shitty zombie movies are good for something after all, huh?” She snarks, doing her best to put her guard back up. Her nose wrinkles with a little sniffle as she comes down from the panic. The other woman’s steady and calm manner was oddly soothing and comforting. She felt… safe, and at ease, as Dom tied off the makeshift tourniquet. “There. Now let’s go before that thing decides to get up again.” Darlene gives a quick nod and the two women exit the shop – careful to step over the corpse slumped in the doorway. The rain greets them—heavy as the storm passes through the city—and they start to make their way down the apocalyptic streets of New York.


	3. pile-up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which dom and darlene head to all-safe

Dom’s skin shudders, wet and cold, now missing the warmth of that light blazer that is now torn and draped over her shoulder. Her slick palms shift as she readjusts her grip on her handgun. Swallows hard as she sees a street filled with totaled and trapped vehicles approaching. Her eyes flick over to Darlene—studying her expression. The panic from early has faded, but she’s still radiating waves of anxiety. She can’t blame her. Who could in this situation? Dom stops—reaching her arm out to stop Darlene too.

“ _Shh_.” She urges softly, her eyes scanning the scene. Darlene follows her lead and starts looking around too—whips her head over her shoulder, trying to gain a sense of what made the agent stop.

“What?” Darlene whispers—impatience and nerves leaking into her voice. Dom sucks air in from between her teeth. Slides her lower lip between her teeth and runs her incisors over them—contemplative.

“Look at how many cars there are.” Dom murmurs back, her tone low and urgent. Darlene blinks, turning her gaze to the pile-up of vehicles blocking the majority of the road. The road that, according to DiPierro, leads to All-Safe’s main offices. “We need to be careful. Quiet.” Darlene’s eyes meet with Dom’s for a long moment—mutual understanding echoing between them in the silence that hangs in the air.

Dom steps in front of Darlene to take lead. Motions with her hand in the air for the shorter woman to follow. There’s a narrow gap on the far left sidewalk where they can squeeze around the vehicles. Dom slowly crouches down, knees bending generously as she walks low to the ground. Darlene follows Dom’s example and hunches over—eyes flicking across the scenery nervously for any sign of movement. They settle behind a blue 1995 Toyota Camry—it’s hood crunched against a bent streetlamp.

In the near distance, Dom can make out an undead figure gnawing on a bloodied body sprawled across the pavement. The sounds of its chewing muffled only slightly by the downpour. She turns to Darlene and reaches out for her purple backpack. Instinctively, Darlene draws her shoulder back and brings her hands up to the straps of her back protectively. Her brows furrow in indignation. Dom exhales heavily and shakes her head before raising her gaze back up to meet Darlene’s. Her stare insistent and unabating. They maintain obstinate eye contact for a long moment before Darlene relents and hands her backpack over to Dom. Her gaze still not moving from Dom—waiting and watching to see what she does. She delicately unzips it—careful not to make too much noise—and starts digging her hands around. Feels around the inside of Darlene’s bag before pulling something out a minute later. It’s the small folding knife Darlene had nabbed from the hunting store. Dom reseals the purple backpack and offers it back out to Darlene who slumps it back over her shoulder.

Darlene regards Dom quizzically—not entirely sure what her plan is and feeling quite nervous about that uncertainty. The agent flips open the knife—examining the blade and lamenting that it wasn’t longer. Wishes that the store had a machete or something of the ilk. But this would have to do. She peeks over her shoulder and motions for Darlene to wait before stepping out from the cover. Darlene swallows hard and glances up from behind the Camry—watching as Dom pads across the concrete.

The agent approaches the zombie from behind—hesitating for only a moment before launching into action. Grabs what hair is left on its scalp with her free hand and presses the heel of her boot into the zombie’s back—pushing it down and into the ground. She takes the blade and places it against the undead’s throat. Her lips peel back into a grimace as she yanks hard against its rotting flesh—slowly severing the head from the body. The zombie writhes and squeals under her boot—hands clawing against the earth for traction.

Darlene observes from afar, her breath caught in her throat as she watches the agent hack away at the monster’s throat. Is she crazy? Does she have a death wish? She said she’s an FBI agent—but does she think she’s some god damn kind of action star? Still, it seems like she knows what she’s doing because Darlene can make out the stringy muscles of the neck splintering and snapping against the steel. It takes a few hacks and slices before Dom is able to peel its head apart from its neck and shoulders. The zombie’s body gives a shudder before settling on the pavement. She flips her hair back over her shoulder and drops the head beside the corpse—watches as it rolls slightly before coming to a still. Wipes the blade off on the fabric of her pants and turns her gaze over to the blue car where Darlene is silently perched.

Dom lifts her brows and motions with her head for Darlene to follow. Her wide dark eyes glance around the street before she makes her way out from her cover—treading over to Dom’s location. The agent reaches out and grabs ahold of her wrist—gently pulling her along as they weave through cars. Darlene doesn’t flinch away from the touch or wretch her wrist away. She feels almost… safe. A calm washing over her. Her eyes catch on a small group of zombies wrestling with a chain-link fence sealing off an alleyway and she swallows hard. Remembers what she needs to focus on—staying alive. Her forward movement is halted when Dom suddenly stops. Her leg reels back as she fumbles around in her handbag for something. Darlene’s expression riddles with confusion before settling on Dom’s legs. There’s a zombie inching its way out from under a car—it’s fingers clutching one of her ankles and using it to pull itself forward. Adrenaline buzzes through her system and she’s acting before she can think—clutches her stained baseball bat and swings it down with one hand. The wood batters its arm and leaves a sizeable dent. One more swing severs it entirely and the fingers lose their grip on Dom’s leg. “Come on—” Darlene urges her. Dom inhales, does her best to collects herself, and continues forward.

A few more paces and they’ve cleared the cars. The All-Safe building just a street away. The two women dash down the soaked streets of New York—their boots kicking up water as they run. Dom’s hand is still clasped firmly around Darlene’s wrist. Darlene notes that her grip has a noticeable chill to it. Wonders how cold the agent must be in that thin button-up blouse. It’s a light blue and now that it’s completely soaked, Darlene can make out the outline of her bra flush against her back. She blinks and averts her gaze elsewhere with the realization that there are many other things that require her attention right now. The pair turn a corner and Dom stops when they come across a fairly inconspicuous building. It’s tall—with a myriad of uniform windows lining the stories. Some of them are broken—painting the sidewalk with a trail of shattered glass that cracks under the soles of their boots. Above the entrance are large letters that at some point likely illuminated in the dark. All-Safe, although one of the L’s is missing. Dom inspects the doors and gives it a little tug—unsurprised when it doesn’t give.

“You still got that lock-pick?” She murmurs. Darlene smirks and gives a humored exhale at the request.

“What happened to breaking and entering being illegal?” She cocks her head to the side—arms folded as she enjoys her opportunity to tease the other woman.

“Do you want to find your brother or not?” Dom retorts exasperatedly, eyebrows furrowing together with irritation in response to Darlene’s sass. The smirk slides off of Darlene’s face—back to that familiar sullenness and displeasure.

“Fine. Just, watch my back, okay?” She digs into her jacket pocket and retrieves the lock pick set again from its secure place. Crouches down so she’s level with the lock and starts guiding tension wrenches to set the pins. Distantly, distracting her focus, she can hear the sounds of the undead. Groaning and croaking and hissing. All sorts of demonic unsettling noises that provoke that painfully familiar panic in her gut. The noises are muffled by the sound of a gunshot ringing out—causing Darlene’s muscles to tense and nearly making her jolt. “Jesus, you could’ve warned me!” She hisses, doing her best to keep her hands steady.

“You rather I’d wait to kill them?” Dom snaps back, arms raised steady and her handgun trained on a slowly approaching group of zombies. Approximately eight or so by her count. She shifts her aim and blasts another shambling corpse in the forehead. “How close are you to being done?” She asks breathily—nerves leaking into her voice despite her best attempts to keep her composed demeanor up.

“The more you talk, the longer it’s going to take.” Darlene huffs—does her best to blot out the distractions and anxieties. The sounds of the gunshots, the noises of the undead lurching behind her, the panic writhing around like a centipede in her gut. She tunnels in on the sound of the rain pattering on the concrete and the sensation of the pins sliding into spot—one by one. With another turn of her tension wrenches, the lock gives way and clicks open. “Got it—” Darlene exclaims—shoving the lockpicks deep into her jacket pocket and swinging open the heavy glass doors. The pair scramble inside and pull the doors shut—quickly flicking the lock shut as zombies press up and thud violently against the glass.

Dom sighs with relief—her shoulders relaxing, but still not releasing the grip on her pistol. Darlene shudders heavily and slumps against the wall—her arms clutching her sides as she reels over. Trembles violently as her breath comes quick and heavy. “Darlene—” Dom murmurs, looking her over for any new injuries. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” Darlene tries to verbalize but can’t seem to—only able to utter a choked sob as the fear settles in. Swallows hard between gasps and manages to shake her head no. As she hyperventilates, she can feel her muscles seizing up—a tingle like static spreading over her limps.

Dom’s gaze softens sympathetically as she regards Darlene—unsure of what exactly to do in this situation. How do you comfort someone in the middle of an apocalypse? Especially someone you just met. Social etiquette isn’t exactly something that would fit under the skills section of her resume. Dom crouches down and looks up at Darlene—reaches out hesitantly and places a hand on her knee. “Deep breaths—we’re safe right now. It’s okay.”

Darlene registers the touch, distantly. She can’t suppress the tremble that ricochets throughout the entirety of her body, but she does her best to consciously slow her breath. Settle and ease the hyperventilation. Averts her attention to the lobby of the building. It’s dimly lit. It looks like back-up lights are on. The power must be out here, but it makes sense for there to be back-up generators to keep the servers running. There’s a front desk with a desktop computer at reception and an elevator on the back wall. Between breaths, she squints her eyes to scrutinize the wall further. There seems to be some kind of panel next to the elevator. Likely an employee swipe-in system to grant elevator clearance. The same kind of security seems to be implemented beside the staircase as well. Slowly, Darlene eases her back up against the wall—finding herself again amongst the fear of dread. Dom follows her lead—pressing onto her knees with her palms and standing back to her full height.

“At least we made it here in one piece.” Dom murmurs, now glancing around the lobby as well.

“Yeah—looks like we got some work to do though.”


End file.
